I was born in Denver, Colorado, on the westernmost edge of the Great Plains, and I’ve always responded to and aspired to a quality in poetry that I can only call “clarity.” Not that I’m interested in clarity at the expense of honest complexity; after all, light is not always benign: it blinds as often as it reveals, as anyone who’s grown up in my part of the world would know. That duality fascinates me and continues to shape my work. I’ve published 15 collections of poems over the years, most recently Marked Men, Thread of the Real, and The Earth-Boat, and in September 2014 Colorado Governor John Hickenlooper appointed me to a four-year term as Colorado Poet Laureate. I teach for the University of Denver’s University College, where I also direct two graduate degree programs, and live with my wife Melody in the foothills southwest of Denver.

American AnthemWandering the Web, I stumble on dreamy Kodachromes of Connie Francis, onefading into another while she aches out her famed rendition of Who’sSorry Now? I lean

close to listen—and through the dark back- ward and abysm oftime, I can see that red and cream ’55 Chevy where her voice first pierced me.A buddy’s older brother had taken

pity on us, two bored ten-year-olds,and brought us with him to The Scotchman drive-in (our neighborhood’s infamous eatery, allhotrod machismo and moist young love). He even

bought burgers to keep usoccupied while he gravely “cruised for chicks.” I can almost touch the rolled down back seat window,a carhop’s tray gripping the door. The sultry summer night breeze flows